


Monster Under the Bed

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Peter is an asshole, fluff and face punching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4876075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So there was a post on Tumblr, which wasn't meant to be a prompt, but someone suggested Imagine your OTP and it kind of fits.  Oh and also the question about people who are hot sleeping under the covers so the monsters don't attack them. </p>
<p>one time when i was a little drunk and laying in bed with a guy, i kissed his neck and mumbled “i could beat the shit out of you” in his ear.<br/>he said “i know”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster Under the Bed

Peter Hale is a dick. He’s a total asshole. He does things for no purpose other than to be annoying.

And as he’s been living with Stiles since the boy got out of college two years ago, Stiles is the lucky recipient of the majority of his asshole-ishness.

It’s a hot summer night, late September and it’s still in the 90s when they go to bed. Which shouldn’t be a problem, their apartment has air conditioning and there’s also a fan by Stiles’ side of the bed. Peter runs hot, but he’s not uncomfortable with it. His only problem with the heat is how long it takes Stiles to fall asleep, flailing on the bed, muttering about the heat and how it’s impossible to fall asleep. Well, he is annoyed that the boy doesn’t want to too much contact with him, saying it’s too hot for sex. Or more accurately, he’s too hot to sleep next to Peter after sex.

Sex relaxes Peter, but it doesn’t make him sleepy like it does Stiles. He needs the physical contact, to curl around his mate’s body to fully relax and fall asleep. Maybe as Stiles says, it’s a stupid, outdated, overprotective thing, but it’s his thing. So after some sex involving as little contact as possible, Stiles is asleep and Peter is wide awake.

Peter listens to the hum of the air conditioner and the quiet motor of the fan as it rotates, blowing cold air over Stiles. Who is under a blanket, because he’s an idiot. An idiot who also keeps one leg outside the covers while the rest of him is buried under a light comforter.

“Sometimes I get warm and sometimes I get chilly. The leg is very important for temperature regulation, Peter,” he says when they argue about it. It’s not a huge argument, just something that Peter doesn’t understand. At all. The air and the fan aren’t loud exactly, but Peter’s aware of them. They’re artificial, and if Peter had his way, he’d just open the windows and let the admittedly warm air in. Even as warm as it is, it smells much more natural than the air filtered through all the appliances. And it smells more like Stiles. Plus he can barely hear Stiles’ heartbeat over the mechanical hum.

He gets out of bed and wanders the house, making sure things the front door is double-locked and the alarm on. He picks up a book and looks at his tablet, rejecting them both and eventually walking back into their bedroom.

Stiles is twitching slightly, and Peter watches his eyes moving behind closed lids. If he could smell him better, he’d be absolutely certain if it’s a nightmare or not. As it is, he watches Stiles calm slightly with his foot barely hanging off the side of the bed.

Peter knows he shouldn’t, but boredom and his general nature push him forward to kneel at the foot of the bed. He reaches out and runs a finger up the sole of Stiles’ foot and watches as the boy twitches. Peter waits until Stiles stills and then uses his claws to gently tickle his toes, smirking as Stiles pulls his foot back on the bed, mumbling without waking up.

Finally, Peter reaches out a clawed hand and grabs Stiles around the ankle and tugs.

And promptly gets kicked in the face, Stiles’ foot connecting solidly with his nose as Stiles screams.

“What the fuck?” he yells as he sees Peter sitting on the floor, hand to his bloody nose. “What are you doing?”

“What am _I_ doing? What the hell was that for?” Peter asks, pulling a sock from Stiles’ pile of discarded clothes to wipe his nose. (And really, he’s twenty-five years old, can’t he put his dirty clothes in the hamper?)

Stiles has a hand to his chest, still panting. Even over the fan, Peter can hear his heart pounding. “The fuck, Peter, you scared the crap out of me! What the fuck is wrong with you, it’s not like the boogey man under the bed is so unheard of, you know!”

Peter stands, and makes sure the cartilage in his nose is back in place. “You had your foot out from the covers, which is stupid and I just…”

“You were just being a dick,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “Geez, if you can’t sleep, go for a run or watch television or plot to take over the world. Just don’t fuck with me when I’m sleeping. Dick.”

Peter says nothing as he checks his nose in the bathroom mirror, wetting a tissue in the sink and wiping up any remaining blood.

“You okay?” Stiles asks, getting comfortable again in his bed. He pats Peter’s pillow, sighs and says, “Come on back to bed.”

Peter gets into bed, thumping his pillow until it’s the right shape and leans back, leaving an arm out so Stiles can curl up on his shoulder. He huffs and wiggles into place under  Peter’s arm, blankets over his shoulder and one leg out of the covers, on top of Peter’s legs. Peter pulls a leg out as well, running a toe up Stiles’ shin.

“I could beat the shit out of you,” Stiles whispers into Peter’s neck, settling in, his heart beat slowing as he falls back asleep.

Peter kisses his head, inhaling his spicy, sleepy scent. “I know,” he says quietly and slowly falls asleep.


End file.
